Digging Through the Filth and Slime
by WritesOnCoffee
Summary: Archie is a disenchanted cop in Goldenrod City. He's seen it all-but when he discovers a device that can manipulate Pokemon behavior, he goes on a crusade to eradicate criminals who dare mistreat Pokemon. In doing so, he draws the attention of other officers, Giovanni, the Pokemon League, and even for forces of nature themselves. Darkfic, game continuity post-GSC.


A/N - Just a little head's up. This story is dark. I don't know if it's a deconstruction, but it's a dark story. I hope it'll end up going into deconstruction territory as it goes on, but-ah well, no point really going on about it. Just read it and tell me what you think (feedback is key for any writer to improve).

Part One – Discovery

Archie Nagiwata set aside his concoction of coffee and whiskey beside his computer long enough to complete his police report. He had requested a day off before working on it, which his boss allowed. "Take a break. See some friends. Family. Something. It's been a long day." Archie's parents had died years ago, and anyone who called Archie a friend had the common sense to move as far away from Goldenrod City as possible. Being in Archie's district left a lot of people in danger. Most of his friends had lost contact over the years, partially out of fear that some lunatic would intercept the letter or email, and take revenge against Archie through them. Or something like that. A lot of people just stopped talking to Archie because he had a lot of stories that no one wanted to hear.

Archie's fingers hovered over the keys—but instead of typing, he took another long gulp of whiksey-coffee, then went to his Growlithe in the corner. The young pup had curled atop a little pillow, muzzle atop its paws, its flaring mane hot to the touch. The fabric along his pillow was flameproof. Archie made the mistake to not buy flame-proof material back when he first adopted the pup's father—had that been twenty years already? Anyway, half of the house had lit up and Archie's favorite curtains had nearly turned to ash by the time he had put out the fire, and—

"Sit your ass down and finish the stupid thing." Archie fell back into the seat, and began to type.

He had the day down. The time. All that remained was the what.

Culprits? A few teenage trainers. Premeditated crime against Goldenrod's gym leader, Whitney. Motivation? Whitney had beaten their asses at Pokemon with her Miltank. Rather than take this as a sign that the trainers needed to improve, they took out their anger on the Miltank.

First offense: breaking into the gym.

Second offense: stealing Miltank's Pokeball.

Third offense—

And here Archie had trouble typing. How could someone describe the scene Archie had walked in on a few days ago? How could someone put into words the pumps those kids strapped to Miltank's udder. They had paralyzed the Miltank first with an electric attack. They reapplied the paralysis whenever they noticed Miltank twitching. They didn't want Miltank knocking those pumps off of her udders. Each nipple had been strapped to a suction vacuum thing that drained the poor creature's system of milk. And then, once all the milk had been drained, kept sucking.

Archie had imagined, judging from the Miltank's squeals of pain and the look the nurses wore when Whitney brought her broken animal into the Pokemon center, that the sensation had been comparable to someone strapping their genitals up to a vacuum to suck out all the fluid therein.

Archie leaned back, took another sip of whiskey-coffee, and mumbled, "The fuck is wrong with people?"

Eventually, the words got written. Archie dressed himself in his navy uniform, buttoned up to his throat. He left the radio on for Growlithe so he didn't feel lonesome, went on the path to work, and handed in his report to his boss.

Rachel Bloomswood glanced at the pages, shook her head, then filed the documents. "Thanks. Knew that took a lot out of you, but someone had to write it."

"Yeah." Archie sank down.

"You handle the big things. I couldn't trust my younger officers to write that."

"I know. Just—the hell?"

Mrs. Bloomswood nodded, then said, "I have something for you. New girl for you to break in."

Archie chuckled. "She'll want to quit halfway through today."

"I think she's made up of stronger stuff than you think."

The new girl came to Archie's desk with two coffees. Fresh from the shop. Archie hardly glanced up at her before mumbling, "You're late."

The girl immediately replied, "Are you sure? I thought I was suppose to come at eleven—"

"Yeah, which is why you're late. You should've come at ten to." Archie took his coffee, and took a long sip. "By the time eleven rolls around, you better be damn ready for anything."

Archie looked this girl over. Already, not impressed. She looked like a kid. Hardly into her twenties. She had stuffed her chubby frame into an ill-fitted suit that made emphasized her lack of muscles. She had jewelry on—in particular a locket that an enemy could easily grab hold of to choke her. She had Pokeballs at her hip—not bad, but they obstructed her reach to her firearm, nightstick, and mace. Perhaps she didn't feel as though she needed a gun with those Pokeballs. More proof that she was a foolish, stupid kid.

The girl awkwardly took a seat near Archie, fiddling her fingers atop her lap. "Right. I'm sorry." She nervously cracked her knuckles. "My name's Emily. Emily—"

"Yeah."

Emily's face flushed. "Ms. Bloomswood told me you'd be telling me how to do things and—"

"Drink your coffee."

Emily brought the coffee to her lips, then hesitated. "Do you have any milk or sugar? I didn't put any in the drinks because I didn't know what you wanted."

"You'd be willing to just take what I tell you is milk and sugar, and trust that I'm not lying?"

"Well, yeah. We're on the same side."

Archie snorted. "Like that's ever stopped someone from poisoning you." Arche gestured toward the back of the office. "Milk and sugar there. Don't think anyone's poisoned it this week."

Archie went about typing up his documents while Emily hovered over his shoulder, watching the bulk of police work in action. Things didn't get exciting—for Emily—until the message popped up on Archie's monitor. A new request for him to investigate a theft in the local daycare center. The one just outside Goldenrod.

They were in the car moments later, driving down the roads past the market fronts and stores until they were out of the busy streets and onto the open roads of Rt 34. The roads were no longer paved, but rather dirt paths. The car's wheels were designed to travel along these paths. Patches of high grass rose as far as the window as they drove on toward the Pokemon Day Care. Krabbies rose out of the water by the shoreline, nipping at the tall grass in search of Rattata to drag into the water to drown. All Emily saw were the Pokemon, not what they were doing. To her, her eyes were wide and excited.

"Are you a trainer?" Archie asked.

"Yeah," Emily's cheeks turned red. "How can you tell, aside from the Pokeballs?"

"You looked at those Pokemon like a trainer, as if you want to catch 'em or something."

Emily scratched the back of her neck. Blush coursed down her neck. "I guess, yeah. Been awhile, though."

A Krabby had a Hoot-Hoot by the ankle. The sleeping bird didn't stand a chance as the Krabbies dragged it into the water to drown it. Emily's eyes were on a group of Snubbles rolling around. She never saw the Krabby in plain view.

Archie pulled up to the Day Care Center. He nearly had to drag Emily away from the pens of Pokemon. Eevees were snuggling in a pile with a Vaporeon. Spearow and Pidgey alternated from swooping against one another to snuggling in somersaults through the air. The whole thing reminded Archie of when he was a child, looking at petting zoos, stroking the beaks of Nidorans—unimportant.

Inside, Archie found the elderly couple running the center. He hardly knew them beyond their faces. Skin clung to their old bones. They sagged under the weight of years. They offered the officers seats at their tables and cups of warm tea, the vapor rising in plumes to the ceiling. Scent of jasmine filled the air. "We must admit we don't usually entertain guests—other than our friends in the back over there." The day-care lady waved toward the rear pen, toward the Pokemon scurrying around and atop one another. At that particular moment, an Eevee had nudged an Ekans nose, then scurried around the pen as the Ekans chased after the little cutie. Emily's smile widened.

"I haven't been here since my trainer days," Emily said, "I left my little Ponyta here back when I was little. Do you remember her? A Ponyta with a little nick on her hoof?"

"I'm afraid we get so many Pokemon here that we can't remember individual ones," the day-care man replied, shrugging, "Except ones our granddaughter Lyra brings us."

Archie cleared his throat. "Right, well, let's move onto the important details, shall we?" He drew out a notepad, and pressed his pencil to it. "You called in to report a kidnapping. Mind filling in the details?"

The day-care lady nodded. "Certainly. We both went to bed last night, and woke up to find one of our care-taking Pokemon were missing."

"Any chance it ran off on you?"

"No," the day-care man replied, "The door to his little pen had been unlocked with a key."

"Why did you keep him in a seperate pen?"

"To nullify his powers," the day-care man replied, "The cage was designed to suppress psychic waves. The Pokemon kidnapped is an Alakazam that we've held onto after the Alakazam's trainer left him here."

"How long ago was that?" Emily asked.

"Seventeen years ago, I think," the day-care lady replied, "The poor trainer ended up dying from a Beedrill sting."

Archie noted this. "Can I have the trainer's information anyway?"

"Not much use to you, I'm sure. His name was William Goldberg."

Archie jotted it down. Names that seemed useless had an odd way of cropping back up in cases. "Right. So then, who would have a key to the pen?"

"We employed the help of a few Breeders," the day-care man replied, "to help manage this Alakazam. That said, I think I suspect who it might be."

"You do?" Emily leaned forward, "Why?"

"Our one gardener, Mitchell—Mitchell Krueger—he was let go a few days ago for some lewd conduct."

Archie had heard about this. Mitchell had decided to walk outside the Day-Care Center without any pants on. Many people who saw him seemed to think he was in a daze. Not himself. "What effects does Alakazam's psychic waves have on people?"

The day-care lady laughed, "None, I can assure you. But the Pokemon love them."

"What do you mean by that? Are they really friendly with Alakazam?" Emily asked.

"No, but they get real friendly with each other around Alakazam," the day-care lady replied,

"Friendly how?" Emily's smile slipped.

The day-care man leaned back, hands folded on his lap. "Well, the truth of the matter is that we're a business. Like most businesses, we need money. Attention drawn to our center. We went into business around the time the Kanto Breeder got started, and he was a terrible breeder. We'd get some Pokemon to mate and make babies, but so often Pokemon who could give birth to some amazing babies just couldn't stand the sight of one another. Until Alakazam came, that is. Then, any Pokemon that could mate, would mate."

Emily's skin had turned a shade of green. "So Alakazam made them have sex with one another is what you're saying?"

The day-care lady nodded, "We'd like to rephrase that as 'Alakazam gave Pokemon the gift of bliss and joy,' and isn't sexual relations just a sign you're happy and content with yourself and the world around you?"

"But they aren't choosing to mate. Alakazam's making them do it," Emily replied, "That's rape. That's literally the same as drugging a girl and raping her."

"Not exactly," Archie replied, "There are no laws in Johto that prohibit Pokemon breeding. Many breeders use unnatural ways to get Pokemon to breed. So long as the Pokemon aren't the worse for ware afterward, it's fine."

"But—" Emily's eyes drifted to the frolicking Pokemon in the back, playing and bouncing along without a care in the world.

"As I'm sure you're Ponyta can attest," the day-care man said, "Our customers always leave here happier than when they came."

Emily didn't say anything for the rest of the meeting. Even when they went to Alakazam's pen to search for clues—even when she discovered a long blonde hair sticking to the lock—she didn't speak. Not until they returned to their care did she grumble, "Disgusting."

Archie snorted. "Get used to it."

A/N - Tell me if you think I should continue. :) If you have any requests, I am open to listening to them...but I can't guarantee I'll include them.


End file.
